


You Don't Wear My Chains

by AutumnalBloom, awbucks



Series: I Think I'm Going to Boston [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anorexia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Disordered Eating, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F slur, Gen, Gender Norms/Roles, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, No Smut, No graphic sex, Physical Abuse, Set in Boston, Sexism, Smoking, Swearing, ask to tag triggers, body issues, cursing, only referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnalBloom/pseuds/AutumnalBloom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/awbucks/pseuds/awbucks
Summary: For the past three years, Bucky Barnes has been stuck in a hell that is being boyfriends with Brock Rumlow. Chainsmoking, getting hit, coerced into...things- Bucky takes his pictures in color but his world is grey.  At least he has his students at school, and the fire escape with a carton of Marlboros, right?Tony Stark is a twenty-one year old professor at MIT, escaping his past by skipping out on New York and hiding in Boston. He's mostly okay, he's got his 'bots, he's got his classes, he's got Bruce. And his booze. There's nothing wrong.  But Tony won't ever say it's right either.Rainy days and split milk cross Bucky and Tony's paths and they fall into each other's lives just when they need a savior. Guardian Angels on the banks of the river Charles.Part One of theI Think I'm Going to Bostonseries





	1. In the Light of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh what a beautiful morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty big fic, so we hope you like it :) 
> 
> Comment, Kudos, Bookmakr, or whatever 
> 
> thankss

**In the Light of the Sun**  


Bucky woke up with a leg hanging off the bed and his face smashed into the pillow. His cheeks were red and hot, but his body was freezing. He’d fallen asleep in just his underwear again, which wasn’t boding well for him, considering it was March and the snow hadn’t even begun to melt yet. Bucky breathed through his nose and forced himself up off the mattress. He really should change the sheets soon. Blindly, he grabbed around for his sweatshirt and then Brock’s old pair of basketball shorts he sometimes wore ‘cause they were all that was clean. Laundry too.

It wasn’t as bad outside as he thought, once he got onto the fire escape. He shook the box of Marlboros and stuck one into his mouth. The sun was rising and it looked nice against the skyline. Slowly, he inhaled on his first cigarette, letting the smoke settle for a moment before opening his mouth and watching it dissipate into the air. Bucky knew it wasn’t good for him, to smoke and to keep doing it even though it wasn’t doing him any favors other than keeping some weight off. Not enough, but some. There were other techniques out there to stay skinny. Or...get skinnier, in his case. 

After his second cigarette, Bucky climbed back through the window and tiptoed into the kitchen, rubbing his bleary eyes. Eggs. And bacon. He nodded to himself, rubbing his shoulder. The mark was already two days old, but still tender. Bucky dropped his hand and then grabbed the carton of eggs and the little plastic baggie of bacon. Bucky didn’t eat breakfast, but Brock liked to have something before he went off to work. Made sense. He was lifting things and working all day outside. Bucky was just in a classroom passing papers out. The only pan was still dirty from last night- and it was already six-thirty by the time it was clean and there were two half set eggs staring up at him. Bucky used to like eggs. Egg and cheese on either toast or an English muffin. Maple syrup if the other guys were having pancakes. Sweet and savory. 

“Mornin’ Brock.” Bucky muttered, setting the food down. His boyfriend was still half asleep, but he still tugged Bucky down for a kiss, wrapping his arm low on his waist. He squeezed him a little and took a bite of egg, looking up at him. Only when they were like this- Brock at the table and Bucky in the kitchen, did Bucky look down at Brock, rather than up.  
“You left the window open, sugar. Made me cold.” 

**Is there Anyone?**

Tony woke up at seven a.m., alone. Well, not entirely alone..more like 50% alone. Since Dum-E was about 50% sentient. That was why Dum-E was repeatedly tapping him with his claw shaped arm at seven in the morning. He groaned, and nodded. “Alright, alright, I’ll get your f’in batteries, dummy..” He complained, feeling more like a cat owner than a robot inventor. Maybe he should get a cat. Tony huffed, and got up. Shit..he needed to get ready and get presentable. Class wasn’t until ten, because college students were terrible until about nine, at least. Too late, and they’d only think about lunch. It was a delicate balance and he didn’t need anything else against him. 

He ended up skipping breakfast, just going with some coffee. Tony didn’t want to eat; it wasn’t psychological, it just..he just didn’t care much about taking care of himself. It was more inconvenient than anything else. So instead, he put on a nice sweater and black pants, and decided to take a walk before class.  
Often times he ended up at the park. Tony liked to walk, try to relax. It helped ease his nerves a little before lectures. He always did fine, but he got the sense that few of the students and even fewer of the professors actually respected him. Made him feel like a little kid again back at home, and he hated it. The worst part was, there wasn’t much he could do. Just had to try to prove himself somehow. That was why he had to get tenure, to prove he wasn’t just smart as a kid. 

**Oh Has it Begun?**

“Mr. Barnes! Mr. Barnes!” As soon as Bucky stepped into the classroom, Nicole was already on his heels, shaking a paper in his face. She was a little thing, seven (and a half, she always reminded) with thick bottle cap glasses and about the cutest freckly face and pigtails Bucky had ever seen. Bucky set his bag down on the floor and turned to her, raising an eyebrow. 

“What’s up, Nicky?” He smiled and sat down in his chair, taking the paper from her. He scanned it and nodded. She’d gotten a hundred. They’d been studying together for the past couple weeks, and slowly, Nicole’s scores had gone from low C’s to B’s. And now she’d aced one. 

“See? Mr. Barnes- I did it! I got a hundred! I used those tricks you taught me to remember some of the words, like memory and yesterday and bounty?” She jumped up and down, her mary janes clicking against the linoleum. 

“I’m so proud of you Nicole.” Bucky passed her the test back and then opened a drawer, pulling out the little book of stickers he kept for the kids. They were the embossed ones, a little more special than the ones they got on assignments. “You can choose any one you want.” Her eyes widened and she looked up at him in near disbelief. 

“R-really?” She muttered, and tentatively took the sheet from Bucky to choose. In the end she chose an owl sitting on a branch. The bell rang and, being the good kid she was, Nicole surried back to her seat, sticker on her fingertip. Bucky chuckled a little to himself when he spotted her stick it to the front of her corduroy skirt. 

He rolled his chair back and unzipped his bag, taking his computer out and the accordion folder he used to keep shit in order. Since he was only an assistant teacher, he didn’t have nearly as much as Nat did in terms of paperwork, but she did ask him to grade things. He liked working with Natasha. She was only a couple years older than him and a damn good teacher. Some of the parents were afraid of her, but that was part of the fun, especially when she could still intimidate them wearing fairy wings. 

The class had decided that given their small statures, both Bucky and Nat were actually fairies who had come to teach little humans. They played along. Over the loudspeaker, a fourth grader recited the pledge of allegiance and then read off the lunch menu for the day. Bucky liked it here. He liked his job. It was safe and the folks were nice and he had friends here- people who cared about him. He’d gone to school with another aid, Sam Wilson, for example. They bickered like an old married couple, but Bucky knew he’d have his back, just like he had Sam’s.

Which was why he refrained from speaking about his homelife here. ‘Cause Nat and Sam would have staged a home invasion already. They hated Brock. They were...kind of right, Bucky supposed. But what the hell was he supposed to do about it? He couldn’t change him, and he...he loved Bucky. No one else did. Well his Ma he guessed. But she wasn’t going to propose any time soon. 

Not that he wanted Brock too either. Fuck, that scared him half to death. To be bound to Brock Rumlow for the rest of his life. Be...be...his wife for the rest of his life. He needed a smoke. 

Lunch was at eleven-thirty, and even though he insisted he wasn’t that hungry, Natasha always dragged him in to eat something. Usually, he packed himself a sandwich and carrot sticks, which was what was staring back at him today. They all told him that he taught second grade, he wasn’t in second grade to tease him about his portions. There was too much underlying worry for it to land, though, and it just made Bucky squirm. 

**Oh Dear You Look So Lost**

It was funny, how early kids’ days ended. They were all home by three-forty five and maybe they had some times tables, but were free to watch their cartoons and read chapter books until suppertime. Bucky was stuck grocery shopping, list in one hand and unwieldy carriage being driven by the other. Was just about all the driving he did. Brock used their (Bucky’s) car and Bucky just took the T. He was closer, so it made sense that Bucky walked. And they couldn’t afford two cars. It was stupid enough that Bucky had bought one in the first place. 

He walked up and down the aisles, passively tossing the essentials into the cart. Chicken, steak, bread, peanut butter, beer...their house wasn’t exactly the peak of nutrition. But Bucky did like making salads. Brock told him that putting cranberries and seeds in was faggy, but...Bucky liked it. And he liked to see Brock squirm when he’d make it when his family was over. If Bucky had one line of defense between himself and Brock’s...lesser traits, it was his ma. Mrs. Barnes was a lot of things, but she wasn’t homophobic. Bucky had been so scared to tell her that he was gay, he wrote her a letter, sent it to the house and stayed over Steve’s the night it came, in case she wanted him out of the house ASAP. Stevie had promised he could stay with him and his ma as long as he needed to. 

Luckily for Bucky, his mom barely batted an eye and marched over to the Rogers to give him a wet kiss on the forehead and a bone crushing hug. She even sewed him a rainbow blanket the next Christmas. Bucky still had it somewhere, but he hadn’t wanted to bring it here. It’d get smelly and stained before he knew it. 

The cashier up front was nice and double bagged his things in paper because it had started to rain. He was cute, too, beautiful brown eyes just a bit darker than his skin, and he had a tongue piercing that glinted under the fluorescent lights when he talked. Bucky didn’t make much small talk back though, because he couldn’t, the one time he did would be the one time he got caught and Brock loved him and-

“Thank you.” He muttered, hefting the bags in his arms. The handles dug into his skin and pressed against the bruises. His jacket cuff chafed the healing cut that went from his wrist down to his knuckles. The walk from the store to their apartment was about twenty minutes and usually on rainy days Bucky would take the bus. Today, though, he didn’t even register it as it drove past, splashing dirty water up onto his jeans. Hell, he barely acknowledged the families walking home from school together, or the determined jogger soaking wet in her Patagonia- his mind was somewhere else. 

What if he’d never got together with Brock? What would have happened? You would’ve ended up alone and fat somewhere with no friends and only pity from your family. Maybe he could have dated more guys, like that cashier at the store. No, he doesn’t like you, never would. You’re lucky you have anyone into you, let alone multiple people. Don’t be such a dumbass. Or maybe he would have just been one of those guys who flirts with everyone and then meets that one man who makes his heart stop and his stomach drop and you know-he knows, the world fucking knows, it’s love. 

No. Bucky unlocked the door, resting the bags on his hip. Shit like that doesn’t happen. It’s not about true love. It’s about making the best of what you got. It’s about finding someone who wants to fuck you (even if you don’t like it) and someone who will pay half the rent. Get your head outta the clouds, loverboy. That fairytale shit doesn’t exist and you ain’t a princess. Or maybe you are, with those lips. Just don’t start wearing dresses. He walked into their little apartment and set the bags down on the countertops, getting to work putting the perishables away and then the dry foods. By the time Bucky was done the rain had let up a little, and he was getting itchy. So he climbed out through the bedroom window and leaned on the cold metal railing, flicking his lighter a couple of times before actually lighting the cigarette. 

You know, Bucky hadn’t been a smoker until just a couple years ago. Even if he had wanted to in high school, he couldn’t have because Stevie would’a gotten sick even more often. And it wasn’t that he liked doing it- well he kind of did- but it was more about the excuse it gave him. If Brock was being an ass, he could go outside for a couple of minutes and let him cool off. If he was shaken up, it would calm him down. He knew that smoking the morning after was supposed to be sexy, but when you were huddled on the toilet seat shaking and hurting, it was less of a romance.  
The smoke burned his throat, but Bucky didn’t mind. At least this was his own undoing. His own mistake and his own punishment. Maybe if he didn’t fuck up so much he wouldn’t have fallen into this habit. Maybe if he’d been better Brock would have been happier and work would have gone better for him and he wouldn’t have to get as drunk or he wouldn’t be as mad and maybe if Bucky had just-

“Fuck.” He coughed a little, hunching over himself. He probably should’ve had some water. Too late now. By the time he’d be back out here the cigarette would be nearly gone and he was saving his last couple for tonight. Just...in case. 

**Your Eyes Are Red When Tears Are Shed ******

Tony had been planning to spend the night alone- again. But first, he also needed to buy some real food. And more liquor to spike his coffee with. That always helped. He sighed, leaning on the grocery cart as he studied a few different types of chicken nuggets. Wasn’t sure which to get. The dinosaur nuggets appealed to his inner child, but the veggie nuggets were healthier and would get an extra serving of veggies in. Eventually, he shrugged and got both. There wasn’t a lot he needed, Tony preferred to drink smoothies instead of eating real food. They didn’t get in his way and required less effort. Tasted fine too. Tonight, he had to grade papers too..so it’d probably be a late one again. If he slept. Bruce had mentioned coming over, but Tony doubted it. Usually the man would get absorbed in a book or something and forget; Tony didn’t mind and didn’t blame him, it happened after all..it just sucked to get his hopes up.  
\--  
Bruce did show up a couple of hours later. By that time, Tony was already buzzed; which meant he was full of energy. Bruce let himself in, he usually did since Tony gave him a key. He was already a little irate. He had told Tony that he was coming over- that was his cue not to get drunk. Bruce was getting worried about him. He walked in, and gave Tony a disapproving look.

Tony looked back at him. “Oh, hey Bruce- I didn’t think you’d come tonight. We’re grading, right? I just finished designing a new hydraulics system, think it might be of some use to you.” He was..quick, like he usually was when he drank. Made his mind race, even though that was the opposite of what it was supposed to do. “So let’s get started.”

Bruce shook his head, and made his way to the kitchen. “You’re going to have some plain black coffee, and I’m going to make dinner. I prefer to grade sober, Tony. You should too.” He didn’t have any reason to drink tonight, it didn’t make sense. Bruce sighed. At least he wasn’t really like his father. Not really. “I wish you hadn’t been drinking tonight, Tony. I know you’re lonely, but you knew I was coming over tonight. You didn’t need to. You never do, but..I guess it used to make sense, y’know? I’m just..worried about you.” Bruce was a little older, a little wiser. Sometimes he used edibles, but only every once in a while. In moderation. 

“Just be careful, please?”

Tony brushed him off, waving a hand as he moved to the coffee machine. “It’s fine, I’m fine, Bruce. You know being drunk doesn’t affect me the same way. I just- I thought you wouldn’t show. I was wrong, sorry.” He shrugged.

“I’m fine.” He brewed himself a cup of coffee, and took a sip of the steaming liquid. The heat never bothered him. “Dinner sounds good though. I bought nuggets.”  


**The World You Must Have Crossed, You Said**

Bucky knew he’d forgotten something. God, he was stupid. He just hadn’t wanted to go down the frozen aisle. He’d already had a chill. 

“What the hell are we gonna eat then, Jamie? You gonna make us peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off? Cut up some fucking celery?” Brock was fuming, opening cabinets and the fridge like the food he’d wanted for tonight would somehow magically appear. Bucky was in the corner of the kitchen- he’d been making dinner when Brock came in asking about the appetizers. His friends were getting hungry, he said. And he had to be a good host. Like their apartment was some picket fence bullshit and Brock was some kinda family man. 

“We, uh, I think we uh-” Bucky rifled through the freezer, digging through the half empty boxes of breakfast sausage and past the four month old frozen pizza. When he came up with nothing there, he shut the door shakily and moved onto the fridge. He tried not to look at Brock, he didn’t want to make this any worse than it was. 

“I thought I could trust you with this, baby.” He said lowly over Bucky’s shoulder. “I do so much for you, you’d think you’d be able to do something this fucking easy!” His voice rose in volume and in time with the last four words he spun Bucky around, hand wrapped around his arm and slapped him straight across the face. Bucky nearly fell to his knees when Brock released him. Why...why was he doing this? The game was on, he had people over. Why couldn’t he wait, ‘till it was just the two of them. Now everyone out front could hear him. Hear him whimper. 

Bucky swallowed and stuck his head back into the fridge, desperately hoping there was something in there. The cool air felt good on his cheek. Like an ice pack from the school nurse. He dug through the drawers and shoved the contents of the shelfs away in hopes of finding what he needed.

“Oh!” The relief in his voice was more than audible, it was thick enough to cut. “Remember when you thought you were having people over and I got those shrimp cocktail things?” Bucky stood with the package, it was only a from Saturday, so it should be okay. It had to be okay. He smiled a little and brought it over to the countertop, opening the plastic tray before setting it onto a serving dish. Brock grunted in satisfaction. 

“Alright. And get that six pack while you’re at it.” Bucky nodded down at the chilled shrimp and waited for the swinging door to close before breathing. His cheek stung, but only a little and the Patriots were winning so maybe the rest of the night would be okay. Bucky grabbed the beer in one hand and then the food in the other, bracing himself to go out into the living room. Brock was the only one of them that was in a long term relationship. And was gay. Bucky wasn’t sure which one they used more for locker room humor. He’d sort of lost count. 

As Bucky set the things on the coffee table, he felt multiple sets of eyes on him. What? Was there something on his shirt? He knew he still carried too much weight around his stomach...No, it wasn’t that. Their eyes were higher up. 

Consciously, he rose a hand to his cheek where it was still tender and stinging. A red smear of shame spread across his face and Bucky retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Bucky held onto the porcelain edges of the sink and panted at the drain before forcing himself to see his reflection. Staring back at him in the mirror was an angry mark staining his cheek and the beginnings of a black eye. Oh. 

Okay.


	2. You Don't Know Me, You Don't Even Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who read chapter 1! here's chapter 2. 
> 
> if anyone's curious, the title and chapter titles are from the song Boston by Augustana. :) considering the fic is set in Boston, it works, and the lyrics fit the story as well. 
> 
> enjoy!

**You Don't Know Me, You Don't Even Care**  
Tony woke up to an empty house, he wasn't sure what time. Bruce was gone, and a stack of finished papers were by his side. He felt like shit but everything was done, so that was a plus. And he had definitely eaten dinner last night, he remembered that much. Just not what happened after that. 

He got up and wandered to the kitchen, getting a bowl of blueberries and raspberries. That was when he found a note from Bruce. “Text me when you’re sober. -Bruce.” Tony sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Well, that explained last night. He ate a few of the berries, and sat down. This sucked. Bruce probably didn’t want to talk to him again. At least not until he was sober, which..didn’t seem very likely. Tony knew it was getting bad. He just..at first, he drank to forget what happened in his own home. Once that stopped working, he tried to alleviate the loneliness. Now..hell, now he didn’t know why. Just a bad habit, one he didn’t want to stop. 

Once he was done with the berries, he went and showered- then decided to go for a walk. It would be good to get some fresh air. Maybe..maybe he could try to cut down little by little. Just have a couple of drinks a day, and then eventually just one. That was a plan, right? Maybe. He sat down on a park bench, mind racing the way it always did. Tony just wanted it to shut the fuck up. He didn’t want to be this way but he didn’t know how to get out either. Sure, there were programs, but...he was afraid. Tony shook his head. No, he’d have to handle this himself. Always had dealt with everything else that way.

He looked up, and looked around. It was Saturday, that meant the park was a little crowded. There was a man taking pictures by the fountain, a couple walking their dog. He tried not to dwell on that, and kept looking around. There was a family playing frisbee, tossing it back and forth. Tony felt as though he didn’t quite belong. Just a lonely kid. Made his hands twitch a little. He wanted a fucking drink, but that wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be. Tony left shortly after that, and..wandered. Not to a bar, not to anyplace in particular. Just wandered.  
-  
You know, thank god for hangovers. If it weren’t for the shitfest that ravaged Brock’s head and stomach after a night of drinking, Bucky probably would never get the chance to come out and take these pictures. Boston in the morning was always his favorite thing to photograph. Call him a sap but Bucky loved to see everything wake up. The old buildings with their hand poured window panes, the harbor, hell, he even loved it before dawn, when the trucks were still dropping newspapers off. The morning was a good time, a safe time. Everything was fresh and new and nothing had hurt you yet. 

Bucky shifted on the chunk of concrete he was perched on. It was part of some old maze art installation that was used more by kids as a high stakes hopscotch court than anything else anymore. And one happened to be in the perfect spot to take pictures of the descending and ascending planes. Yeah, yeah, it was stupid, but Bucky thought it was a little neat, with all the thick clouds and fog. He’d been making his way around the area this morning, having gotten up at six and stuck Brock’s breakfast in the oven to keep warm before he left. The guy wouldn’t be up until ten and would be a walking corpse after that. As long as he was home by ten-thirty, he should be alright. 

Lucky for him, the park was mostly deserted today. It was grey and wet and the chill in the air soaked right into your bones. No one else was around, which meant he could smoke. Bucky hated to do it in front of kids, which is why he didn’t, but it just made the desire all the more intense when he got back home. Sitting up, he fished the carton and the lighter out of his sweatshirt pocket and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. He closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs. The rough edges of his anxiety were smoothed by the nicotine and embers. It was like the friend he didn’t have wrapped up in a little strip of paper. Bucky tried not to linger too long on the thought that these were his only comfort nowadays. 

‘Cause...they weren’t. And he was fine. There were worse things he could be doing besides. And...no one else seemed to care. So why stop?

Eventually, Tony found his way back to the park. The sun was beginning to rise and he wondered why he woke up so early. He wrapped his coat tighter around his body, and noticed the photographer from before sitting on one of the stone statues, smoking. “Hey. Nice morning for a smoke, hmm?” He sat down on another stone block nearby. “Nice and cold out.” Tony had tried smoking, but it never did anything to ease him. Just made him cough and his lungs burn. But, everybody had their own vices. He didn’t judge.

“I’m Tony.” He’d dropped the last name by now when he introduced himself. Carried too many connotations. “This is a nice place to think. Keep ending up back here when I wander, no matter which direction I go.” It was stupid, but he did. The park was quiet and let him have a little peace. Tony needed respite from his own damn brain.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and let the smoke curl out of his mouth. It had been almost silent here for the last ten minutes and then all of a sudden there’s this chatty Cathy talking to him about good smoking conditions. He must want something.  
He dropped the butt on the ground and smashed it down with his sneaker. “You want something?” Bucky got off his rock and walked over near Tony, not too close, but not too far either. 

“If you want a cigarette, you can just ask y’know.” He stuck a fresh one into his mouth and held out the carton for a moment before dropping it when Tony didn’t take one. Bucky shrugged and stuck it back into his sweatshirt, lighting the cigarette dangling between his lips before making eye contact with the man again. His gaze tripped around Tony's face for a reaction, a glint in his eyes, a knife in his smile- but the man was unreadable. And that was worse. 

Like the calm before the storm. Wind up before the swing. Bucky sucked in a breath and dropped his eyes, panicked. That had been too harsh, hadn't it? He shouldn't talk that way. It was disrespectful.

“I was taking pictures.” He admitted, albeit softer and meeker than before. Any ounce of crassness had been replaced by almost a childish whisper. Like Bucky had done something wrong. Like Tony would be mad. 

“The clouds today make the planes look intense n’ shit. Uh, good for black n’ white.” 

Tony shivered, and shook his head. “Nah. Not my vice.” It wasn’t that cold outside, but he was freezing. He looked up at him. “I saw before. It’s..I bet they’re really pretty.” He wasn’t sure what he thought about this man yet. At first, he was defensive and a little scary- but now he seemed small and..sweet, almost. Gentle. Tony looked around the park, and squinted a little. Trying to see what Bucky saw. Then he nodded. “You’re right. I can kinda- imagine it.” He looked over at the man and smiled a little. 

“I’m sure the pictures are nice.” It seemed like the guy didn’t have much to look forward to, judging by the covered black eye he was sporting. To the unpracticed eye, it would be hard to spot. Tony had been given plenty of practice.

“Are you going to print them?” Maybe he could give the guy a little break. “If they turn out, I’ll buy a couple from you. I mean...why not?” It wasn’t a big deal, he had the money, and..Tony knew financial security could be a big factor. Money was a big piece of survival during abuse. A big piece of escaping it.

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. What the fuck did that the guy want? He shifted his weight back and forth from shoe to shoe, the rain soaking his socks. Maybe he should ask Brock if he could get new Converse. 

“I don’t sell them.” Bucky said simply, tipping his head back and watching the smoke fade into the cold air as it left his lips. He would sell them, if he could. But he was already lucky enough to be able to keep his teaching job. If Brock had his way, Bucky would be a fucking homemaker. He already played the part- shopped, cleaned, cooked and let his boyfriend take his anger out on him. Brock liked making the money and paying the bills. It was like a classic Law and Order bit, except they were gay and Bucky was fine. He could take it. 

“I doubt you’d want them anyway.” He smiled bitterly. “Most people say they’re shit. I don’t even hang them up at home, they’re that bad.” He tapped the cigarette to clear it of ash and looked down at it. He...he should go. It was getting late. 

“Nice meeting you.” 

Tony almost stopped him, but..changed his mind. “Nice meeting you too.” It was nice to interact with someone, but..Tony knew he was a lost cause. At least for now. He waved a little, then got up himself. It was better to leave at the same time. Go their opposite ways, right? He looked down for a second, then shrugged and walked off. It’d be fine. He’d work on Dum-E tonight, try not to drink. Maybe if he could make it through the night..he’d make it another night, and another. Tony wasn’t gonna hold his breath, though. Being alone wasn’t easy, robot as your only accountability. Especially when there was nobody to stop for except yourself. And well...Tony didn’t give a shit about his physical being. He’d lost that twelve years ago. 

Tony spent the night with his nightmares, real and imagined. He soon learned that he couldn’t handle it without help. And..with no one who cared, that seemed unlikely. It was his own fault. He should’ve gotten his mother out sooner, Jarvis..should’ve gotten him out. Instead, Tony was a coward. Saved himself at the cost of everyone else he loved. Never stood up. This was what he fucking deserved.


	3. Oh Yeah, You Said

**Oh Yeah, You Said**

The next few days hadn’t been any better for Tony. But..eventually, he ran out of food in the house. Instead of putting in any effort, he just threw on some clothes and trudged down to the store. All he’d done for the past two days was a vicious cycle between working and drinking, without much room for sleep. He looked and felt exhausted but he’d get some rest before lecture on Wednesday. Hopefully. He was just..tired. Tired of seeing happy people too. They were all so...happy. Damn it. He sighed and walked into the store, grabbing a little cart. Tony just needed a few things. Some soup, maybe some kind of food he could make in the microwave. It didn’t really matter. Usually he just wanted to get eating over with. It was an inconvenience and an interruption. That was when he saw the guy from the park. Tony wanted to talk to him again, see him again, but not like this. Not in the store when he looked like shit.

That was when someone dropped a gallon of milk. And proceeded to fall in it. Tony stifled a laugh, but hurried over to make sure they were okay. What the fuck? How did that even happen?

Bucky’s arms were sore. And his thighs. His hips and his jaw and his hands...fuck he just wanted to cry. Brock hadn’t been too happy the past couple days, and Bucky hadn’t done much to improve his mood. Kept fucking up. Last night he’d told him he wasn’t as attractive as he used to be and if he had to gain weight at least let it be somewhere good. The night before that he’d been wasted and angry and when Bucky tried to go out for a smoke he throttled him. But it was okay now. Brock was in higher spirits, it seemed like he was going to get promoted at work soon, and the last bet he’d made- on horses or whatever- had paid out. 

Today school had been a half day, which both nice for the kids and for him, because it allowed him to go home and change out of his work clothes before running errands. Bucky had sucked it up while at school, long sleeved sweater and khakis, but now that he could, he just wanted to be comfortable. Which meant for him an old stretched out cable knit that went down past his ass and a soft pair of jeans that needed to be belted but it wasn’t too obvious. He pushed through the grocery store, hunched over his carriage. Even though he had a list, there was almost nothing in the cart. He’d probably have to go back around again when he came to his senses. 

Bucky paused in front of the ice cream and blinked tiredly at the Ben and Jerry’s. He and his sister had driven up to the factory one summer. They’d each gotten a sundae the size of their heads and ended up having chills in July because of it. He liked Cherry Garcia the best, with Chocolate Therapy coming in as a close second. Having a scoop of both was the best, because they melted together into a sweet mess. Just about when he was going to move on, he heard a thump, something shattering and then the groan of someone who’d fell. 

Oh. Oh. Someone had fallen. Into a pool of milk and now it was dripping all over his sweater vest. Bucky drew in a sharp breath in attempt to keep his laughter in, but when he noticed the socks with the matching pattern to the sweater and the fact that he still hadn’t gotten up yet, just letting the milk soak into his clothes, he couldn’t. The bright sound fell from his mouth like a waterfall. He clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to stop, but his shoulders were still shaking. It wasn’t even that funny. It just- it felt good to laugh again.

Tony looked at him, and started to laugh as well. He couldn’t help it, even as he helped the man up. The man’s laugh was nice, pretty. Tony hadn’t laughed in a long time. Probably since..fifth grade? Not a real laugh, not like now. “I’m sorry,” He said, looking at the man. “I hope you’re okay. It’s just-” He shook his head. “I don’t think either of us have had anything like this happen.” He shrugged, and carefully led him out of the milk. It wasn’t that slippery, but maybe in loafers it was.

Once the man was safely out and the clean up crew had arrived, Tony walked back over to the handsome photographer. “Well, that was only a minor catastrophe. Uh, listen.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he looked like shit. This wasn’t the right time to make a move, but Boston was a big city. What if he never saw the man again. “Could I get your name? And uh, maybe your number? Or I could give you mine- you know my name, but..anyways.” He shrugged.

“You don’t have to. Just thought since we’ve run into each other twice now..” 

Bucky eyed Tony wearily, but not with as much scrutiny as before. He was less intimidating in sweats and he didn’t seem intent on either making a scene of talking to him now or down the line. He still was a bit skeptical, though. 

“You...want my number?” Bucky finally said, phrasing it more like a statement than a question. Why the hell did he want his number? Wasn’t his appearance enough of a turn off? Not that he thought Tony was flirting with him...but what did he want then?

“You want to make this a regular thing? Me n’ you go out and watch middle aged men fall into various liquids?” He cracked a little smile before ducking his head back down and letting his bangs fall into his face. There was a bruise up near his hairline that had been too fresh too cover. You only saw it if you were up close. Like Tony was. 

“And I’m Bucky.” He shrugged. Sure, Brock didn’t like him meeting new men, but what was he going to do to him he hadn’t already tried?

“James, technically, but I don’t anyone who still calls me that.” 

Tony nodded a little bit. “Nice to meet you. And uh yeah, a phone number was what I had in mind. I don’t know that we’ll make watching men fall into milk will be our go to date night, but maybe every once in a while if we’re lucky. I was thinking more like a nice dinner, or a movie. I know a good taco bar.” He shrugged. 

“Here’s mine, if you want it.” He offered up his phone so Bucky could put it in his, or write it down. Whatever worked.   
“I just thought...well, I’d like to see you again outside a random stroke of luck. And ideally, when I don’t look like shit.” Tony had seen the bruises and while he didn’t expect to be able to fix things all himself..maybe he could at least encourage Bucky to leave. Maybe be a better option, somehow. Though he wasn’t sure a nice drunk was much of a step up from a mean one. 

Date night? Bucky’s eyes widened and his knuckles went white against the handlebar, he was gripping so tight.   
“Oh, I, uh, I-” His gaze flicked over to his left, his right and he hunched over himself as though a threat would come from behind. 

“I have a b-b-boyfriend.” He swallowed hard on the word, it was bitter on his tongue and like smoke when he said it. God, that sounded nice. A smoke. Or five. Maybe just sit on the fire escape with a book and a pack and pretend that’s all that existed. 

“I’m sorry, Tony. But uh-” He dug into his pocket for his list and ripped a corner off, scribbling his cell number onto it. 

“I agree. Fate’s brought us together for a reason, right?” He tried for a smile passing the scrap over to Tony. “Maybe just not the one we want.” Bucky would have to be careful, not to text or call too much, and to keep the contact vague- but not too vague because then Brock thought he was lying about something. 

“Just...don’t call me or whatever after six.” Bucky met Tony’s eyes, the plea shamefully desperate. “Please.” 

Tony nodded quickly. “Of course.” He took the paper and looked into Bucky’s eyes for a few seconds before he looked down, and shoved the numbers in his pocket. “I understand. I really, really do.” He took a shaky breath. “I’ll uh - just call me when you can. If you want.” He looked around, and pulled his cart closer. 

“I’ll see you around.” With that, Tony left and went to the self-checkout. That had been a little nerve wracking. It was hard for him to talk about even the idea of what had happened. There was a shred of fear that someone would remember what he and the rest of his family had been a victim of, look up the case, look up the details. His whole personal life had been paraded around in a courtroom and most of it was public record. That meant anyone could read what had happened and that; that was what Tony was trying to avoid now. 

After he was finished checking out, he started to head home. Tony hoped that Bucky would be okay. If Bruce was still friends with him, he would’ve texted the man, asked for advice. Maybe he still would, anyways. Just to get it off his chest.

**You Don’t Know Me, and You Don’t Wear My Chains**

A little ways from the apartment building there was a convenience store where Bucky got his cigarettes and would go to for ice and booze and shit. He’d stopped there first to get a fresh pack and a coffee. It was one of those damp days that stuck to your skin and made you feel like the sun had never shown its face. 

Beyond the store, if you knew where to look, was a running path. It circled around the old neighborhood beside the mucky brooks and the crumbling nineteenth century buildings. It was relatively safe, used enough that it was kept up and reasonably patrolled, and perhaps more importantly, Brock hadn’t set foot on it in his life. About a quarter mile in from where the path opened to the main road, there was a little picnic area, the tables scattered amongst a grove of trees. He took the one in the corner, by the stone wall. Back in the early days, Brock used to humor him and take him around to old sites he liked. Let him tell him things about the places and take photos ‘till the cows came home. They probably would have come here if it was still like that. 

Bucky climbed up onto the top of the table- the seats were covered in bird shit and wet leaves, the table only had the droppings- and sat cross legged, coffee between his legs and his phone in his hand. All he could do was stare at it. At the cracked screen and its dented case. Fuck, he was nervous. He wanted to call Tony...he’d talked to Nat at work about it and she’d nearly rang him up right then and there. She was ecstatic that he’d met someone outside of Brock’s circle and of work. Even as a friend, she’d added dubiously when Bucky insisted. With a sigh, Bucky set the phone down and took a sip of coffee, staring up at the pale blue sky. The clouds were thin and stretched over any semblance of color. 

It took Bucky half his coffee and three and a half cigarettes before he was able to dial Tony’s number. It had been over a day and he still hadn’t even put the damn thing into his phone. It rang once, twice, six times (he’d counted) before someone picked up. 

“Uh,” Bucky’s heart was in his throat. These were dangerous waters. “Hi.” 

It had taken Tony a minute to find his phone. But as soon as he recognized the number, he picked up right away. “Hey, sorry. I couldn’t find my phone.” It had been hiding among his other drawers in the workshop. He often left things in odd places. Tony wasn’t sure what to say for a minute, before he finally came up with something.  
“How are you? Are you doing alright?” It was...Tony doubted that Bucky had left whoever was abusing him, but hopefully it was at least a little better today. Every day was different and it’s own hell for him. But..some days, his dad was passed out. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was the same case with Bucky. Today, he going to go the animal shelter. Maybe something living to take care of would help him be more responsible. A cat, most likely. He was just going to try to get through the dog pen without freaking the fuck out.

Bucky shrugged even though Tony couldn’t see him, staring down at his scuffed sneakers. The laces were frayed and the soles barely had any traction anymore. He had to be careful on ice. 

“Yeah.” He said, watching his cigarette burn shorter and shorter. It was stupid, so stupid, wasn’t it? Sitting here on a picnic table, drinking lukewarm coffee and chain smoking while he talked to some guy he barely knew. He hadn’t called Natasha outside of work before, or Sam. He texted them on occasion, but never had built up the courage to actually call them. So why Tony? Why was he risking safety just to talk to this guy? There was no rationale for it, no rhyme or reason. And perhaps that was why. No strings, no baggage, just a face and a smile and the sliver of him giving a shit about Bucky. 

Since Stevie, there really hadn’t been someone who cared about Bucky without insisting on something in return. Nat and Sam didn’t really insist on anything, but he was Natasha’s assistant and wasn’t as qualified as Sam was with kids. He felt like a copy boy sometimes. Wondered if they just made nice with him ‘cause he was a poor little beaten boyfriend. 

“How about you?” Tony hadn’t been looking to great when they’d met again at the food store. Probably just an off day, but Bucky noticed nonetheless. He stretched his legs out in front of him, and let them dangle off the edge of the table. They only just hit the ground. His ankles poked out from his pant legs, mismatched Christmas socks adding stripes of color between his mucked up sneakers and frayed jeans. It was far from the holiday, but Bucky had been in a rush this morning. 

“Hangin’ in there?” 

Tony shrugged. “I guess so, yeah. I’ve had better months to be honest, but far from my worst either.” He shrugged again and leaned back on the sofa. Tony had done a little cleaning up, the house was looking a little better. Even though he wasn’t any better, he looked a bit better anyways. Tony realized he needed to get his appearance together, at least. If Bucky was ever going to leave this guy, maybe..or before the university suspected something was up. He wasn’t the first professor to be like him though. At all. 

“What do you do for a living? I’m just curious. Uh, I’m a professor of robotics, which I guess is kinda cool. Right?” He chuckled. “I’m kind of a nerd I guess.” 

Tony was..tired. It had been a long month indeed. Lost his only friend at the university, and gained another at the grocery store. It evened out, kinda. He was just..a bit sad. Tony felt pathetic even though there wasn’t much he could do about it. He had been thinking about AA, but it was so..intimidating. Complicated. Tony played with a wrench, fiddling it in his hands while his phone was pressed against his ear. It was nice to hear from Bucky. He was..nice. Deserved better than Tony, but also deserved better than whoever was abusing him. Maybe he’d just end up being a stepping stone; that was okay too. 

“And it sounds silly, but..if you need anything, lemme know. I have more resources than I need so uh..yeah.” He looked at the silver wrench in his hands. “I know things are kinda shitty. Same here.” He smiled halfway. “Call it intuition or understanding.”   
Bucky pursed his lips, frowning. He breathed sharply from his nose before giving the rotting leaves a defensive glare. He was fine. This was the life he was in, and that was that. No one else was getting hurt and...at least he was making someone else happy, right? Kinda. He wasn’t doing too good of a job of it as of late. 

“M’okay.” He muttered, shaking the carton of cigarettes awkwardly with his free hand, until one made its way out. “And I work at an elementary school. Assistant teacher in the second grade.” Bucky stuck the cigarette between his teeth and lit it. He hadn’t expected to feel so...tense. Tony was just saying things and that he understood, but what the hell was there to understand? What? That he’d made a stupid decision outta highschool and was paying the price now? It was Bucky’s fault that he was like this now- no one should be pitying him. 

“I couldn’t imagine being a professor. Most’a the kids would probably be bigger than me.” He chuckled a little but then stopped himself when he got a startling pain in his chest. 

“That’s why I work with eight year olds. I don’t have to worry about being mistaken for one of them.” 

Tony chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe how many times a day I have to show my staff ID. No one ever believes me. I had to invest in a lanyard eventually.” He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, setting the wrench down and swapping it for some strawberries. “I was always mistaken for being older in college though, which came in handy.” He had only been fourteen but everyone assumed that in college, you were eighteen- or older. 

He wanted desperately to talk things over with Bucky, but over the phone didn’t seem like the right choice. “Listen..could I see you again soon? Maybe over coffee or something? Not as a date, I swear. Just as friends. I just..” He shrugged. “I don’t have many friends and I thought it might be nice to hang out or something.” 

“Sure.” Bucky actually couldn’t believe his own voice. Believe that the affirmation came out of his own mouth. So quickly, so surely- He nearly choked on his cigarette and used that as an excuse to be quiet and collect himself. Tony had said it wasn’t a date or anything, but still...Brock never took his word for shit. Bucky had to explain to him that it was his cousin he saw at the mall- not a boyfriend. 

“When? Uh..where?” His leg shook a little and his eyes darted all around, like a mouse waiting to be caught by an owl. His entire body felt like it was vibrating, and his words ran loose and messy. Fuck he sounded like his father. 

“I could come during my lunch break? Or I’m sure Nat would let me take the afternoon, if it was to go out and see someone who wasn’t Brock.” Bucky laughed nervously at that and tried to calm himself down. It was on the verge of being too much- he knew if he said much more, Tony would end up hearing more than he ever wanted to know about some screw up from Southie and Bucky would walk home red eyed and assumed to be high. Like his sister. Or drunk. You know what that does to your body. Even if neither of those were accused, he’d still be in trouble. 

“I don’t have alotta friends either. Probably not very surprising there.” 

Tony thought for a minute. “During your lunch break would be fine, I wouldn’t want to keep you away from work too long. Wednesday? At Render Coffee?” It sounded fine to him. Some nice black coffee, maybe a sandwich. He was nervous but glad Bucky had accepted. It..it would be nice to spend time with someone who wasn’t a robot again.

“And I wouldn’t worry. You seem like a nice guy, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of friends soon.” He took a bite of strawberry, and thought as the taste changed from sour to sweet. “I uh..I can’t wait to see you.” He paused. “See you then?” Tony wasn’t quite sure how to end the conversation, he never was good at that. “I’m really glad that we’ll have a chance to get together. Talking face to face is easier.”


	4. Essential Yet Appealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter there is a fairly intense domestic abuse scene, so if that bothers you you may not want to read the first half.

**Essential Yet Appealed**

Bucky ran a hand through his hair again and looked himself over in the mirror. For the seventh time. He’d had a bagel this morning for breakfast with peanut butter and fuck that was so stupid of him. Now he had a stomach and could suddenly feel every bit of softness in his body. And of all days to do so. God. Why couldn’t he be better at this. Bucky unbuttoned his shirt and balled it up, pulling on a looser sweater instead. It didn’t cling as much. He carefully pulled it on and then went back to scrutinizing himself. Consciously, he felt for his collarbone and for his jaw and looked down at his wrists. 

“Hurry up, Jamie!” Brock pounded on the door with no warning, shaking it in its hinges. Bucky nearly fell in shock- clutching onto the sink for dear life. 

“Your hogging the bathroom and I gotta shave. Have a meeting with the boss.” Bucky closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. This shouldn’t scare him. Brock shouldn’t scare him. But fuck he did, he did. 

“Maybe...maybe if you’d gotten up earlier we wouldn’t hafta rush like this all the time.” Bucky finally said, still hunched over the sink. His voice was shaky but clear. He knew Brock could hear him.   
There was a pause. It was almost like a computer had stalled, stuck and unable to complete the next action. 

“What’d you say to me Jamie?” Bucky bit his lip and slowly turned. God, it was agony. Knowing that every movement would be bringing him to pain and hurt and shame. 

“I said, maybe if you got up half an hour earlier, like we talked about…” He put his hand on the door knob. Under the sweater, his arms looked okay. Not big. Good. 

“You wouldn’t have to rush around like this.” Like they’d planned this. Like this was some TV show and they were actors and they knew each other’s rhythms and reactions and there was some script that blocked it all out, the door opened and Bucky was smacked in the face. And then swiftly tossed to the ground. He hit his head on the tile. 

“You tryin’ to blow this for me, Jamie? What? You think I’m not good enough for ya?” He kicked him in the stomach and yeah, it hurt, but he was just trying to stay focused. Stay aware. It was hard when someone was taking blows at your stomach and you back and then-

“Everything you have- it’s ‘cause of me you little sonuvabitch.” Brock had him by his throat, and Bucky’s feet were off the ground, so it was useless to resist. For a moment, the only sound was Bucky’s lame whimpers and Brock’s near animal like panting. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry I’msorryI’msorrysweetheart Please? Oh my god, please just let me go-

And then, like he was tired of seeing him struggle, Brock let him drop down to the floor of their bathroom, where he’d spent too much time this morning. He curled up on himself, his nose was bleeding, and just hid his head, tucking it down between his legs and chest. What had he done? What the fuck had he done?

“And don’t you forget it.” 

**Carry All Your Thoughts**

Tony had been waiting at the cafe for almost an hour. Sure, he’d been about fifteen minutes early but..now he was just sipping coffee. On his own. This..this sucked. Sure, he’d been stood up on dates before, but..never when his self esteem was this low. Shit. He was sitting inside, having managed to get a table. Tony didn’t want to order lunch yet, but..he’d been waiting for quite some time and it didn’t seem like Bucky was going to show. Eventually, he gave in out of hunger and got a plain bagel. Bread made him feel better, right? Eh. Tony sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d wait a little bit longer.

Finally, he saw Bucky. Looked worse for the wear, more than Tony did last time anyways. Didn’t make Tony feel any better, though. “Hey.” He said, looking up at the man. “Sit down. I can get you something if you want. Whatever you want.” Maybe a sandwich, soup, whatever. Tony knew he had been hungry. Bucky probably would be too. “It’s good to see you again. Are you okay?” It took a keen eye, but Tony could see something had happened. In Bucky’s movements, each pained in different areas. 

Flecks of blood around the nose that he missed with a washcloth. And beyond that, a big red handmark that could only partially be covered by makeup. Tony knew the drill. “I’m gonna keep asking you that, y’know.” He smiled sadly. “Until you tell me something.”

Bucky smiled tiredly at Tony and nodded. After...Brock’s outburst, Bucky had scraped himself off the floor and back into the bedroom. He’d locked the door upon entering and put a chair in front, angled up under the knob. Like a little fucking chair would stop him. The next ten minutes were filled with that painful burn you got in your throat when you held in sobs, and the tedious process of peeling off clothes that had been kicked into your skin. It didn’t even matter that he was fat anymore. It all just hurt too much. Through his pathetic sniffs and sighs, Bucky eventually pulled himself together with a couple layers of long sleeves and then jeans. It technically wasn’t part of the teacher dress code, but he didn’t give a fuck right now. He’d smeared some makeup onto his face, and neck, dabbing tenderly across the bruises. His lip was busted, but that could be excused away. It was still slushy out. Icy. 

Natasha nearly walked out of her classroom when he came in. Some of the kids noticed, but he told them he just had fallen when he was riding his bike. It’s still too early, y’know, but I just really wanted to take it out for a spin. Even some of them were dubious. In the end, she let him go meet Tony with the strict notion that he was to spend the night at her house. Tell Brock we had some projects to grade, alright? Natasha had never invited him over before. It bothered him a little that this was the reason why. He was just a charity case. A stupid, ugly, weak pity party. 

“I’m okay. Really.” He spread his hands, squirming. Bucky wanted to pull his legs up and curl up, protect himself in this coffee shop, but that just hurt too much. So, instead, he pulled his feet under the chair and hunched forward, shoulders slumped and hair falling onto his forehead. It was embarrassing, but...what else was there to do anymore? 

“Nothing to tell. And, no thanks, about the food. I already ate.”   
Tony was..tired of denial. Of others, of himself. “I’m not stupid.” He said, flatly. Then his face softened. “Sorry. Just- I know what it’s like. I’ve been abused. Not by a lover, by..my father. I see the signs and I’m..I’m tired of pretending they don’t. I’m still fucked up from it and the longer it lasts, the worse it gets. I was lucky to escape alive and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.” He paused. “I don’t want it to go that far.” 

He shifted uneasily in his seat, thinking. Tony hadn’t been convinced by someone else to leave. It had been his own decision- but one made out of necessity. It was that or a painful death. Now..even now, he was still messed up and didn’t know how to deal with it and he had to be honest with Bucky about that. “I still have issues, and I still don’t know how to process a lot of it but the important thing is to have that chance. To recover, even if not completely. I had to leave the area, start over. It’s not easy but it’s worth it.” 

Tony took a sip of coffee. “I drink too much but I’m not violent, and I’m working on it. Trying to, anyways. I want you to be safe. Anything you need me to do, I’ve got it. If you need help getting out..I can do that. But I can’t watch you suffer. No more writing it off. I was in denial for too long myself, and it isn’t worth it.” 

Bucky looked down. Emotions swirled in his gut and at first all he could think of was that witch rhyme from Macbeth. Double, double, toil and trouble. They’d been the only ones to know how the hell that play was going to end, and yet, they kept it from everyone who asked for answers. Because they were shitty people, but that was the point, Bucky guessed. If you do shit, fate punishes you for it. 

So what had he done? Bucky swallowed hard and looked at Tony from between his bangs. 

“Why do you care about me so much?” He asked lowly. It made no fucking sense. The guy had seen him twice by chance and had offered help both times. Who the hell did he think he was? Some born again Scrooge with a penchant for goodwill? No, that was too harsh. Bucky was just confused. The last time someone had cared about him this much had been...Steve. And he was dead. It used to be him and Stevie, with Becca in their corner if they got into trouble. Now, he was the only one left. Becca was still alive but was hanging on by a shred. They still couldn’t trust her at the house alone or with any money. It was like...she didn’t even know them when she needed to get her fix. 

“I...I’m sorry, Tony, but I just don’t understand. I haven’t done jackshit for you except make you worry about me apparently, which is bullshit in and of itself.” He huffed and fidgeted. Maybe Tony would let him be and he could go smoke. Clear his head. 

“I’m not good with owing people shit, especially if I don’t know what the hell they want from me.” Bucky let out a raw, rough laugh that seemed to darken the room by itself. He raised his eyebrows and leaned in a little.

“And there’s not much to want. Hell, I’m not even a good fuck. Can’t even give up well anymore.” 

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want you to fuck me. Nothing personal, just uh. Not my thing.” It seemed stupid but that was..well, how he felt. “I just want to get someone else out. Might make me feel less guilty and..hell, pass along what I’ve got.” He looked at his hands, a bit calloused from mechanical work. “You won’t owe me anything. I swear it.” Tony meant it, that was clear from the tone in his voice. 

“I’m not offering you the family fortune. I’m offering you a guest room and my kitchen. Spare bathroom too, obviously. That’s all.” Sure, he’d give Bucky whatever else he needed too, but those were the basics. 

“All you need to do is text me and..I’ll help get you out. Not sure how but I’ll figure something out in the time given, if you can’t do it yourself. I just want to help someone. Let me make up for what happened. Please?” Tony looked at him, sadness in his eyes. “It’ll be good for both of us.” 

Bucky licked his lips and folded back in on himself, that bizarre burst of energy leaving as abruptly as it’d come. He stared down at his hands and tried not to focus on his legs, but failed. Even without the scars and bruises, he still wasn’t good looking. And Tony could help anyone. Why him? He stunk like smoke and was a assistant elementary school teacher. At some point in his forgotten growing up, he’d wanted a dog and a farm somewhere green with a husband he could make dinner with and go do all the stupid things too- antiquing, farmer’s markets, the beach, when the sand’s too hot and the water’s too cold and everything tastes like salt but it doesn’t matter- but that was gone. The sun had set on that Bucky. That Bucky had been put through a blender and come out fucked. 

“I...I dunno. I’m staying at a friend’s tonight.” Tony would probably be happy about that. “She’s making me.” Probably a bit displeased about that, but would probably want to know that Bucky was really relieved that she’d asked at all, ‘cause he sure wouldn’t have. 

“I’ll...I’ll think about it, okay?” Bucky looked out the window, surprised to see patches of blue sky. He smiled a little. Spring was coming.

“You wanna go for a walk?”


	5. Across an Open Field (Interlude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is fairly long and this bit doesn't really fit with the tone of it but is still important to Tony's characterization

**Across An Open Field**

Tony was used to being on his own, but that didn’t make it any easier. He’d been alone since..well, about thirteen. That was when Jarvis died, right? He nodded to himself and mumbled the date, scrawling it in his notebook. Along with all his other drunken ramblings. Aside from being embarrassing if found, Tony liked going through them while slightly more sober to try to find something useful in them. Very often, he did. Tonight, he was drunk again. For the 7th time this week, once every night. Nights were the worst. When the house was the quietest and even robots slept. Tony always ended up alone. That was..well, the burden he had to bear. Not an easy one.  
\----  
He saw Bucky often during the day, as winter turned to spring little by little. Things hadn’t improved with Brock. In fact, they’d worsened. Tony kept trying to persuade his friend, because..that was what they were now. Friends, truly. And Tony was okay with that, despite lingering feelings that kept nudging him towards the man.   
Then one night out of the blue, things changed. Tony had just started drinking for the night when he got a text. It was Bucky. Whatever had happened, it must have been bad because finally, he was ready. And so was Tony. He had no plan, but he was going to do his best to figure something out. Nat and Sam were his first line of contact, they’d know where Bucky lived and how to get to him. Then, worst case scenario..Bruce. If the man would help them, they’d have a better chance. Bruce had enough bottled up rage and self defense training to defeat a small army. Let alone one asshole.


	6. When Flowers Gaze at You

**When Flowers Gaze At You**

_Please. Please._ Bucky stared down at his phone screen, back up against the door. He’d brought the kids in there, and now...they were safe. They were gonna be okay. He’d bring them back to his mom’s and all they would be was scared of a man they’d never see again. 

The night had started out fine. Becca had a therapy appointment and mom had to go along. To make sure she didn’t run and also because there was some family part at the end. They hadn’t asked Bucky to come yet. But they had asked if he could watch the little ones for the night. Brock wasn’t due to be home until very late, so the apartment should have been safe. Bucky had made them English muffin pizzas and let them have Capri Sun. Georgie had asked if they could watch Moana. 

They’d gotten it on DVD for Christmas. 

And then Brock had busted through the front door, stinking like hard booze and staggering, anger in his eyes. Not directed at any one thing, just...cruelty towards the world. His world. His boyfriend, and all the man he supposedly loved cared about. He always knew how to hurt him. 

“Why’re these fuckin’ kids here? S’Friday, Jamie! I got you to m’self tonight.” At first the kids just stared at Brock with wide eyes. Bucky kept them apart as often as he could, and did his best to keep Brock reasonable when they did meet. The kids had never seen him...like this. 

“I told you, Brock. I had to babysit. Becca and Mom had to go out for an appointment. Remember?” He picked up Frankie who was clutching onto his leg and began guiding them down to the bedroom. 

“We’re all just gonna go down to the bedroom now, okay? Uncle Brock’s just not feeling too well tonight.” Bucky walked backwards, hand on Georgie’s chest and his peripherals trained on Lillian. 

“So we’re gonna get ready for bed, and we can tell-” Brock stumbled towards Bucky, as if the kids weren’t even there.   
“You’re mine, you little fucking fag.” He hit him hard in the center of his chest, knuckles pressing against his ribs. “Mine.” 

Bucky knew he could move fast, he’d learned over the past couple years, but he didn’t know how he made it to the bedroom like he did. Before he, or any of the kids knew it, they were in the dimly lit bedroom with the door locked behind them. Brock was drunk enough that it’d take a few minutes for him to gain enough energy and brain power to hunt him down again.   
Which brought Bucky back to staring at his phone. _Please, Tony._ He heard the distinctive stomp of work boots, covered in cement dust and paint. _There are kids here. Please._

“Y’know you can’t hide from me, babycakes.” Bucky could almost smell Brock through the wooden door. He looked back to the kids, who were huddled together on the bed. He’d already told Georgie how to lock the door and to put a chair in front of it.   
“N’ I don’t want to, honey.” He fiddled with the knob and slid out into the hallway. If he could just keep Brock distracted with him, he’d forget the kids were even here. 

“I know tonight’s our night...I just needed to do this. I’m sorry, I just thought you’d be home later.” 

You know when a shark smells blood? And their eyes go inky black and all they see is prey and you see is violence? That’s how Brock looked. In a split second, he went from drunk bastard to monster. Bucky was just glad the door was closed. Hearing it must’ve been bad enough. 

**They’re Not the Only Ones**

Tony paced back and forth when finally, Bruce answered the phone. It was the wrong time of night for Bruce’s sympathy and Tony knew it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Bruce,” He said, only slightly relieved. “I swear to you that I’m not drunk. You can ask me any question. I just- I need your help. A friend of mine and some kids he was babysitting are in danger and I’m not..well, strong enough, on my own. All I have is a butter knife in the house and I doubt that’ll do much.” He was rifling around drawers, looking for everything, anything that could work as a weapon. He’d gotten the address from Natasha, and she was headed that way. 

Bruce thought for a moment. Tony didn’t seem drunk at all. Just panicked and desperate. It wouldn’t be right to abandon him now. “Alright. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Just give me the address, and I’ll meet you there.” Once Tony did, Bruce hung up and left. All he had was his keys- but that was all he needed.   
\--  
Once they were there, Tony looked at them all. Since no one spoke up, he decided to lead. Wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but he’d manage. “I’m Tony, this is Bruce. I’m assuming you’re Natasha,” He nodded to the red-head with murder in her eyes. “And you’re Sam. Our priority is to get Bucky and the kids out safely. Second priority is Brock. But..we shouldn’t call the cops unless we’re sure we can’t handle it. God knows they don’t do enough.” Tony still didn’t trust the police. Didn’t consider a sixteen year old genius with a photographic memory a good witness? Still couldn’t fucking forget, could testify like it was yesterday.   
But it didn’t matter. Now..now he had to worry about Bucky. 

Bucky thinks he’d gotten Brock calmed down. They were sitting on the couch, Brock’s arm around Bucky’s waist and his lips trailing up and down his neck. A bit different than ten minutes ago, when he was branding him with his fingertips and pounding his boot into his stomach. 

“I bet you’re hungry, right Brock?” He said sweetly. “Probably didn’t get a chance to have much dinner.” Brock huffed in affirmation but just held onto Bucky tighter. 

“Don’t think you can go hide in the kitchen, try to pull something on me.” Bucky, eyes dumb as a doe, blinked at Brock confusedly. 

“No, no! I was just going to order a pizza? I won’t go anywhere.” He thinks Tony should be here soon, and then he could get the kids out, and Bucky could wait ‘till the cops got here and made sure they took Brock in. He...the bastard wasn’t going to get off scot-fucking-free. And just messing him up would only lead to more shit down the line. If he could get him into the system, into jail, then some other guy wouldn’t fall into the same speck of hell Bucky had found himself in. He dialed 911. 

“Hey there!” The operator made a confused noise. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” They still said, but obviously hesitant. Bucky nodded and kept his polite, phone voice going. 

“Yeah, uh, so could I put an order in for a pizza? With pepperoni?” Brock didn’t seem to be suspicious. And the kids were quiet in the room. Thank god, thank god. Tony and Nat and Sam would come in and get them and then they’d be safe. 

Bucky went back and forth with the operator, with them eventually understanding his...order. “Yup! And the address is 20 Wilmington Street, apartment 5, that’s on the fourth floor.” They assured him that the appropriate personnel would be arriving shortly. 

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll be sure to give a nice tip!” 

Tony and the rest of the group were waiting outside. Finally, Tony saw his chance. The kitchen lock was easy to slip, and he slid open the door silently. He was anxious but it was going to be okay. The slightly taller chemistry professor entered first, since he was probably the most intimidating. Maybe except for Natasha, but she had her own role in mind. Rescuing the children. Bruce and Tony, along with Sam, made their way into the living room. Tony stood next to Bruce, wanting to let Bucky know he was there. That this wasn’t going to go on any longer. 

“Give him up, Rumlow. Bucky is coming with us.” He said, simply. Bruce nodded in agreement, clutching his keys tightly. He didn’t want a fight, not logically but in his soul..Bruce was ready. For whatever he had to do. 

Sam outstretched a hand, nodding for Bucky to come with him. His friend looked injured and he was worried. “Let’s go, Buck. I guess Bruce knows tai chi or something, you’ll be safe. C’mon. We need to get you patched up and safe.” 

Bucky met each of their eyes before shaking his head. He hoped he could convey his intentions with a glance alone. Natasha probably got it. That night he’d stayed at her house he’d told her how he’d do it if he ever left. Wanted him in jail. If Bucky was ever strong enough to leave the man, he wasn’t about to let someone else take his place. Sam hopefully knew him well enough that he wouldn’t cause a ruckus just for kicks and then back out last minute. 

“No it’s okay. I just ordered a pizza for us. But it’s getting late, so I was hoping you could take the kids home.” Brock was fuming, but Bucky was almost positive that the alcohol in his system was finally getting to him. He could barely keep his damn eyes open. Had tuckered himself out using Bucky as a punching bag. 

“They’re just in the bedroom down the hall. Georgie will open up for ya.” 

Tony looked at him. He understood but it wasn’t..it wasn’t what he had been hoping. “Alright. I’m sure Nat has the kids by now. But uh..can I stay for pizza? Sounds good, haven’t eaten yet.” He looked at Bruce, who backed off slightly. He understood the code too. 

“I think I’ll go look for a bottle of water to go with it.” Maybe they could just be uninvited guests for now.

Sam went with him, leaving Tony alone with Brock and Bucky. Wasn’t the best position but Tony sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Bucky alone, injured. It seemed like Brock couldn’t hold his liquor though, not like Tony could. He walked over to the cabinet, having an idea. “Brock, want a shot?” He asked, getting a bottle of..well, something out of the cabinet. Smelt strong, and gross. Maybe Tony was just picky on how he got drunk, and on what. Vodka made for a killer hangover. But one shot never hurt anybody, unless you were already drunk. Then..it’d probably be something like a nightcap. He poured two glasses, filling Brock’s a bit more and his only about halfway. A chaser would help the aftertaste, but he still wasn’t looking forward to it. Ick. 

“Salut, Brock. Gonna down it, or not?” 

Not wanting to be outdone by a stranger who had suddenly appeared in his apartment (Bucky knew that he was past the point of both logic and memory in terms of intoxication) Brock shot back the vodka and leaned back into the sagging couch, looking at Tony intensely.

“You-you one’a Jamie’s friends from school?” Brock knew about Natasha and Sam, they’d seen each other in passing when he’d pick Bucky up, and was keen enough to know that Tony didn’t work with any of them. His eyes narrowed and he hiccuped. 

“Or’s he been whoring himself out to you?” He turned and slapped Bucky upside the head before staggering up and pulling Bucky by his arm. 

“Y’little slut. Never can get enough can ya? Well it ain’t gonna be a problem tonight, gonna show y’why you don’t go sleepin’ round like the skank you-” And then suddenly, Bucky knew that the world was going to change for him. It wasn’t a sound he necessarily had dreamt of hearing, or even wanted to hear, but it filled him with so much relief he nearly melted. If it hadn’t been for Nat moments later he probably would have. 

“Police! Hands in the air!” 

Tony froze. He was about to throw himself on Brock, get Bucky away. But then the police were there, with sirens and guns and..fucking dogs. He felt like he couldn’t move, and not just because the cops told him not to. Fuck. Tony could barely breathe. It hadn’t worked, his own plan hadn’t work and God, he had tried- but now the cops were here. That made everything worse. 

Bruce walked in behind the police. “Brock is the one. Everyone else is just witnesses. But I need to get to him.” He pointed to Tony. “He’s going to panic.” It wasn’t much of a prediction, it was already happening. One of the policemen nodded. It was clear to pretty much everyone. Bruce led Tony out, there were EMts waiting. Tony’s face was bright red, as one of them wrapped him in a shock blanket. He was embarrassed and anxious and..he didn’t know how to handle seeing them again. Now the adrenaline was wearing off and he realized how much there had been at stake. Bucky’s life, and the life of children. Maybe it was good the cops came, but it didn’t make him feel much better. This sucked.

As soon as Brock was cuffed and out of the scene, the first thing Bucky did, against the wishes of a stern but worried looking cop, was go check on his nieces and nephews. Natasha was holding Lillian on her hip and Georgie and Frankie were holding hands. They all had tears on their cheeks and Bucky realized he probably did too. He knelt down and smiled sadly at the two kids who seemed aware of what had just happened. God damn, why the hell did he have to do this tonight?

“It’s gonna be okay guys, you guys are safe now, promise.” He squeezed Georgie’s shoulder lightly and let them both come in to hug him tight. He looked up at Natasha and nodded towards the door. 

“Can you bring them back to my mom’s? I don’t think I’m going to be able to.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, like that was the most obvious thing he could have said. 

“You need to get checked out. I’ll take the kids home and meet you at the hospital, alright?” Bucky smiled gratefully and realized Georgie and Frankie, standing up to face the cop. Before he could, though, Frankie tugged on the hem of his shirt, looking at him with big eyes and a frown too old for a kid her age. 

“Are you gonna be safe?” She asked, lip quivering. “Cause you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to get hurt anymore. Cause I love you and I don’t want you to-you to-” She started crying again, hard and loudly. Bucky scooped her up and rubbed her back. His arms and shoulders revolted, but it didn’t really matter. 

“Yeah, Franks, I’m gonna be okay now too. We’re not going to see that guy anymore, okay? And I’m not gonna get hurt. “ He rocked her back and forth, just as he had when she was a little baby, and got her to calm down a bit, only stopping when the policewoman put a hand on his shoulder. 

“We have to go now. The bus is waiting.” Bucky nodded and let Frankie down, kissing her forehead. He followed the woman down the stairs and outside into the damp night air and barely noticed anything as he walked. Bucky didn’t even feel like he was in his own body, or even existed. The world just was passing by and he was letting the current push him along, because he’d done what he’d needed to do and Bucky just had nothing left.

Tony sat quietly in the back of the ambulance, not saying a word. They were taking him in just to make sure he was alright, give him a pill to calm him down. Bruce sat next to him, hand on his shoulder. Tony had tried. Bruce knew that. He had been trying. Tony looked over, and saw Bucky. That was good. He’d get checked out too.

“You okay?” Tony asked, in a shaky voice that was hardly above normal speech. He was just..Tony didn’t want to be alone. He knew that if he did, his thoughts would consume him. Then the only solution would be to drink, again. He was tired of drinking. Facing the memories didn’t seem like the best idea either. At least not tonight. 

“Fuck, that was..awful.” Tony mumbled. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t saying that to anyone in particular. Bucky, maybe. Himself. Or his family. 

 

“Yeah…m’sorry you had to see all that.” Bucky said, staring up at the ceiling as an EMT checked his vitals. His eyes were empty and he only responded to Tony because the answer had been easy enough to supply. He wished it had been that day, months ago, when he’d first met Tony in the rain. He’d taken nice pictures, had a couple cigarettes...made a friend. It probably would have been a normal day in any other lifetime, but it was fucking Christmas to him. Bucky’s eyes slid over to Tony again. 

“Thank you for coming when I asked. I, uh,” Bucky held his arm out when the doctor asked him to. 

“I wasn’t sure if you would.” 

Tony shrugged. “Course I would. Know what it’s like.”


	7. Who Cry When They See You

**Who Cry When They See You**

“Has your partner hit you before?” For being late. For being early. For making food too hot, or leaving it out of the fridge. For buying cigarettes. For being bad in bed. For staying over his mom’s house when his sister was on a bender. For not telling him about the pair of sneakers he’d bought. 

_Yes._

“Have those actions led to the need of emergency medical attention?” Broken noses didn’t need casts. Black eyes could be covered up with foundation. He never cracked any bones (until tonight).   
No. Not until tonight. The doctor wrote down an extra sentence there.   
“Have you ever been forced to have sex without your consent?” Friday nights. Saturday nights. When the Pats win. When he gets his bonus. His birthday (not Jamie’s). If he was drunk and handsy. 

_Yes._

The room was cold, so cold, and the only thing Bucky was thankful for was that the johnny they made him wear was loose. Covered him up better than his clothes had. Made him look like nothing at all. Like nothing hurt and nothing was ugly.   
A short woman came in and said that they needed to collect some samples. He said that was alright. 

Bucky felt small in the hospital bed, and nothing gave him comfort. Every face was foreign and distant and even the water tasted surreal. 

“How long have these incidents been occuring?” 

_Three years. (one month, four days.)_

**You Said**

Tony waited with Bruce, sitting in the mostly empty waiting room. There were only a few people there at this time of night. A mother waiting for her teenager who was running a fever. A young dad with a kid climbing all over him, even though the kid had broken a finger. Tony guessed kids were resilient. Most of them anyways. He closed his eyes halfway, physically and mentally exhausted. He was going to sleep, but he needed to do something first. Looking up slightly at Bruce, Tony tried to find the right words to say.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. Uh. I..I really am sorry, Bruce. About the way I behaved before. I’d like to say I’m fine now, but I know I’m not. I know I need help, and..I’m working on it.” He chewed on his lip. “I want to change. You’re a good person, and I don’t want to lose your friendship.” He had always counted on Bruce, and he didn’t want to lose him.

Bruce thought for a moment and nodded slowly. “I know, Tony. Please just..try. Go to AA, whatever. As long as you’re trying, I’ll stay with you. Promise. I won’t abandon you again. I know all this shit is hard, but most people don’t even bother to try. They just hit their kids..” He looked towards where Bucky was. “Or their boyfriends, I guess.” He sighed. “You’re not like that, I know. Just work on it.” 

**You Don’t Know Me**

Nat and Sam came by with coffee and donuts around midnight. They let them in because the pair probably would have broken down the door if they’d refused. They were the first visitors he had, most likely because they assumed familial ties, due to the amount he’d said about them. His mother and sister had to stay home and keep the kids in check, and honestly, he’d asked Becca to deter them until tomorrow. Or Monday. Just not tonight. Bucky couldn’t see them right now. 

He’d had a coffee with cream and sugar but not a donut and his friends had left at twelve-thirty when the nurse started getting snippy. Natasha had kissed his forehead and Sam had given him a hug. The guy was good at those. And then...he was alone. Alone with scratchy sheets and a single blanket. Bucky hated that it made him upset. So, he closed his eyes and pulled the covers over his head. Sleep was an escape, though Bucky wasn’t sure what he was running from now. Tomorrow was a new day and he’d get to go...not home. Not yet. The only thing there he needed was his camera. The rest could burn. Maybe Nat would let him stay over a night again. Or Sam, if he didn’t mind the cigarettes, Bucky was gonna need them come morning. Or maybe he could ask Tony if he knew of any places, having just moved into the city and all. If he didn’t totally hate Bucky for tossing him into what ended up being a hell for him too. 

Bucky forced the thoughts away and tried to think of nothing at all. Feel nothing either. It didn’t work. The next six hours, when he pretended to sleep, Bucky didn’t remember a moment of, but that didn’t mean they didn’t make everything seem much worse.


	8. And You Don't Even Care

Tony was there in the morning. Bruce was too. Once Tony was awake, one of the doctors walked over to him and asked if Bucky had a place to stay, or any plans. Tony thought for a moment, still a little groggy. Those pills made him a little fuzzy in the morning, which was why he avoided taking them when possible. “Uh. I know he has a few friends, he could stay with Natasha or Sam maybe. Or with me, that’s good too. I have a spare room in my apartment, and an extra bathroom..” He shrugged and got up slowly.

“Is Bucky okay? Can I see him? I uh- we can ask him what he wants to do. I think that’d probably be for the best, right?”  
The doctor checked his watch. It was technically visiting hours. “Alright.” It sounded like Bucky had a few options, which was good. He led Tony back there, and knocked to let Bucky know he was coming in. it was common courtesy. Just in case he was asleep or jumpy. 

“Hey, you have a visitor.” He said, walking in with Tony. 

Bucky set the dry triangle of toast he’d been nibbling on down on the tray and looked up, brightening a little at the sight of Tony. He didn’t want them to see him eat, like he was cheating. The doctor had said he was concerned about that, but luckily Bucky was just healthy (and apparently competent) enough to not be hospitalized. 

Bucky’s smile only lasted a moment though, as he remembered last night and how they’d both gotten here. The look on Tony’s face...fuck, even though it had been the right thing to do, to call the cops, Bucky wished Tony hadn’t been involved. He’d been trying to reduce pain...not spread it. Bucky squirmed a little in the bed, and pulled at the blanket pooled around his waist. Even though he was mostly covered, Bucky felt naked. Any attempt he had made previously to hide his injuries was now futile, as the nurses had cleaned and bandaged him up, letting the fluorescent lighting highlight every little malady on his face, neck and arms. At least his lower half was covered. 

“Hey,” He said softly, tiredly, “You’re here early.” 

Tony nodded. “Bruce and I fell asleep here.” He shrugged. “We wanted to make sure you’d be okay.” Bucky looked..small. Too small. He glanced down for a moment, then back to Bucky. “I was wondering if you were going to go home with Sam or Nat, or if you uh- wanted to come home with me.” Tony was trying to come up with a way to convince him to do that. Having someone else in the house would be nice.

“I have a guest bedroom and bathroom. And nice soaps and spare clothes, and a Trader Joe’s that’s like a block from my house. You could stay as long as you wanted.” He chewed on his lip. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be nice. You wouldn’t have to worry. You could just heal.” It’d be good. It would give Tony a reason to avoid being drunk too. They could both get better. He smiled a little bit and shrugged. “If you want. Bruce would probably stop by sometimes and you could invite Sam and Natasha if you wanted to.” He didn’t mind company.

Bucky knew he couldn’t go to Sam or Nat’s. Not out of their selfishness, but that Bucky just...couldn’t. They were too close. Close to him, his life- If he stayed there, every morning Bucky would wake up in a world just like the one he left. Like he was just staying the night to stay safe from Brock. Like nothing had changed.  
“I couldn’t do that, Tony.” He said, pushing his bangs off his forehead, staring at his lap. “I couldn’t possibly-” Bucky sighed and then looked up and met Tony’s eyes. His gaze was serious and constant- he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not for this. 

“How much would you want? For rent?” He wasn’t about to just live scot-free at his friend’s house. Bucky had money and a job and he wasn’t about to...about to be leaning on someone for necessities again. Bucky didn’t want to be trapped but he also didn’t want to be alone. Being alone now would quite possibly be the worst thing for him, even if he wanted to hide.  
Tony thought for a moment. He had bought his apartment outright, he had no fucking clue what rent went for around MIT. “Uh, fifty dollars? A hundred? Whatever you think is fair, I guess.” Tony understood the concept of money, but only very large sums were large to him. “I’m not sure what the going rate is. Whatever you can afford is fine by me. Why don’t you just take care of groceries instead?” He smiled. 

“Or whatever you want. It doesn’t really matter to me. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” He shrugged. Pay, didn’t pay, it wasn’t going to make or break him. Tony barely bought enough groceries for one person, but he didn’t have a problem buying for two. “Right now I just have my robot in the house. So I’ve got plenty of space.” 

“I don’t have a car, though. I usually take a Lyft or the bus to work. Is that okay? Bruce has a minivan for transporting big stuff, but he doesn’t drive it every day either.” 

Bucky thought for a moment, and nodded. He could do that. Buying groceries would be good- he could choose, and if it was his money then no one could make him buy or put back things. 

“I have a car.” Bucky said. Yeah, he did! It was in his name and he owned it and...now he could go wherever the fuck he wanted. He smiled a little. 

“I mean, it’s nothing special, but I got it a couple years ago. I think they had it brought here after we all left...the apartment.” Bucky’s expression faltered for a second but then he sat up a little. The doctor had cleared him late last night and had filled the paperwork out for him to leave. 

“Why don’t I change? And then we can get outta here?” 

Tony nodded. “Sure.” He blushed a little. “My house is a little messy. I would’ve cleaned it up had I known, sorry. I’ll clean once we get there.” He thought for a moment. “Is there anything you don’t eat? I’m not much of a meat person. My robot eats meat though-” He grinned.

“Kidding.” He wasn’t going to give Dum-E meat, and robots didn’t eat anyways. Sometimes he just said that to freak people out. It was fun. He walked to the edge of the room. “I’ll wait in the hall. We can go when you want.”

**And You Don’t Even Care**

Bucky had spent about ten minutes in the hospital parking lot cleaning out his car. It had been...weeks since he’d driven it himself. And it showed. The back seat was filled with trash and beer cans and Brock’s nasty clothes he’d never brought in. They’d dragged a trash can over from the front and Bucky had filled it within minutes. He’d blindly dumped all of the contents of the trunk in as well, not even spending a moment on any of it. Old magazines, a backpack they’d brought on a trip, some of Bucky’s old books, now crushed and yellowed, stinking like exhaust and smoke. 

“There, we can go now. I’ll Febreze it when we get there.” Bucky wiped his hands on his jeans and jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling the seat up significantly from where….it had been before. Too far back, for a driver much taller than he was. He looked over at Tony who had slid into the passenger seat. 

“Where’d you say you lived again?” 

Tony got in. “Uh, Cambridge.” He said, putting on his seatbelt. The seat was too close to the dash for him so he fixed it. Bucky probably sat there at some point. “I can tell you how to get there. I live in a two level townhouse about four blocks from MIT.”  
He guided Bucky to his house. There was a small driveway, enough space for two cars in a straight line. Barely. “Here we are. Like I said, it’s a little messy, so sorry. And I don’t have a ton of furniture yet. I’ve only been living here for about nine months.” He was unpacked, Tony just never bothered to buy much else. 

Once Bucky parked, Tony got out of the car and led him inside. Dum-E sprung to life and started beeping eagerly, swinging around like the wagging of a dog’s tail. Apparently, he had missed him. “Hey, Dum-E.” Tony said, walking over to the relatively small bot. “Good to see you, pal.” He looked at Bucky. “This is it.” 

The townhouse was big, bigger than Bucky’s apartment, and honestly the single couch and TV sitting in the front was like home sweet fucking home. When the little bot came rolling over, beeping happily, Bucky smiled brightly and knelt down, extending his hand out towards Dum-E’s arm, laughing softly when he bumped it. 

“It’s great, Tony.” Bucky said, standing back up and turning towards the man. “Really. I…” He hugged his sides and shifted his weight awkwardly. The gift Tony had given him here was priceless and he just...he knew he didn’t deserve it, but…

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do to pay you back, but I will.” He nodded a little and half smiled. Bucky was starting to get itchy, and while he felt like a jerk for thinking it, he really wanted to smoke. Hadn’t since yesterday afternoon. 

“So, thanks.” Bucky chewed on his lip and looked around, out the window, and then back at the floor. His skin was crawling, but he just was too embarrassed to...leave ‘cause of this. At least the nurses hadn’t thrown out his pack of cigarettes while he was in ER. It had been nearly a fresh carton. 

“I’ll…” Bucky swallowed, “I’ll be right back, though.” He went for the door. “S-s-sorry.” 

Tony shrugged. “It’s all good. I’ll tidy up while you’re gone.” He was just glad Bucky liked the house, and he seemed to hit it off with Dum-E right away. While Bucky was outside, Tony put some of his tools away, and most of the booze too. He hadn’t had a drink since yesterday, which..wasn’t ideal. But he didn’t want to drink. Even though his hands were shaking and he was starting to feel shitty. It was fine. He’d be fine. 

To distract himself, Tony tried to make a grocery list. He didn’t have a lot in the fridge, and Bucky probably needed to keep a more regular food schedule than Tony had been keeping. Something other than smoothies too. His handwriting was shit at the moment, but he figured Bucky would understand. Hell, they could go to the store together if Bucky needed him to. It didn’t really matter, but Tony wasn’t sure he could stay sober if he had too much time on his own. Which was fucked up, but..at least he was putting some effort in. It was something.

Bucky sat out on Tony’s front stoop and burned through five cigarettes before he even stopped to think. It had just been a mindless cycle of lighting and puffing. The last twelve hours had just been a mess and a half and he wasn’t even sure how he was standing. The whole world was still moving, living, loving, but Bucky felt frozen. As though his soul was being chipped away and dissolving into space. Maybe...maybe he just needed a good night’s sleep. If he could sleep again. Bucky thinks part of him will always be afraid that Brock will come back, even if his mom had called him to say he was in jail before the trial.  
And fuck all that shit he’d thought before as well. Bucky couldn’t go into court. It was the right thing to do, but Bucky just couldn’t. He took the cigarette between two fingers and stood up on the steps, finishing it off before finally stamping it out on the concrete and going back inside. Tony was in the kitchen writing up what Bucky was guessing to be a shopping list and...didn’t look too hot. Bucky knew the guy had some trouble with alcohol, but Tony had never opened up beyond that, and they’d never been together when he’d drank. Tony had reassured him a hundred and one times that he didn’t get violent, never had, and never will. And since Bucky knew the man behind the booze, he believed him. 

To keep the cigarette stink mostly contained, Bucky peeled off his sweatshirt and sat it on top of his bags. 

“That a grocery list?” Bucky asked, walking into the kitchen. “I could run out today if we need it, but I think I need at least a shower first.” And probably a nap. And a good meal. And a long, painful cry. 

Tony nodded slightly. “Go ahead.” Then he realized Bucky probably didn’t know where. “Sorry. Stupid me.” He put the pen down and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll show you where your space is.” He led Bucky up the spiral staircase in the living room. “It’s almost like your own apartment up here, just no kitchen. So uh- this is the guest room.” He led him into the spare room, which was big and actually furnished compared to the rest of the space.

“Bruce used to stay over more, so I decided I should actually..furnish it. Some of his clothes are in there and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you borrowing them, but they’ll probably be big on you.” Bruce was about the same height, but definitely larger than the slight Bucky. “The bathroom is in here.” It was attached to the guest bedroom, and had a tub and a shower. “There’s soap here. I think Bruce brought it. It’s eucalyptus and sandalwood. Kinda like the stuff in hotels.” Tony just came up here to use it sometimes cause it smelt nice. 

Tony shrugged. “I’ll leave you alone now. I’ll be downstairs, making the list. If you want to go to the grocery today, we can..I don’t really have anything in the fridge for dinner.” He was bad about that, but didn’t really want to admit it. Sometimes he had chicken nuggets, but those were gone too. “I’m uh, afraid I don’t run the best household. But I’ll try and make it better.” He smiled a little. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” With that, he went back downstairs to finish the list.

Bucky showered, and tried not to marvel at how long the water stayed hot. He knew he was poor compared to Tony, and that Tony was rich compared to most, but he didn’t want to seem so blatant about it. He stood under the water for about twenty minutes before stepping out and toweling off, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He was just about to go back down stairs when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stopped. Whether it was his body or his scars that forced the addition, Bucky wouldn’t admit, but he added a sweater just for piece of mind. It was Bruce’s and was comfortably roomy. He wasn’t sure if he looked too small for it, if he really was small at all, but at least he wasn’t worried about that in this moment, right? 

Bucky trotted down the spiral staircase that gave him the urge to slide down the banister, and back into the kitchen, where Tony had left the list. Basic things, nothing too outrageous, and it made Bucky a little excited that he was just shopping for himself and a friend. Not for a game night or Brock’s favorite meals...chicken parm and cesear salads (those had been good nights), but just for life. To live. 

“Hey, Tony?” He called out, still looking down. The guy hadn’t been in the room when he entered, and Bucky wasn’t about to search around for him. That’d be creepy. 

“So do you want to come with me? Or stay back?” Bucky shrugged and checked his wallet- his debit card was still hidden where he’d stuck it between the cash and card sleeves. “I’ll be okay either way.” 

Tony walked out of his room in fresh clothes. “I was going to come with you, if that’s okay.” He shrugged. “Not to watch over you, just..because I want to.” He didn’t want to be all alone here. Plus going to the store sounded good. And he could help Bucky carry the groceries. All around, it’d be a good distraction. “Just let me take a tylenol first.” His head was starting to ache and that was no big surprise, but it was annoying. Normally at this point he’d just take a shot to make the pain fade, but he couldn’t. Bucky was living with him now and Tony wanted to be better than that. He wanted to get his life back.  
Once he took the tylenol, Tony walked back over to him. “Okay. Ready now.” He forced a small smile. “To Trader Joe’s?” That was his favorite place to shop. They had good snacks and frozen meals, and that was all he really looked for as a single guy. That and smoothie ingredients. 

Bucky looked at him for a second before nodding. Was he...was he trying to go cold turkey? Not that he was a poster child for getting through an addiction, but he knew enough that taking away the vice straight out with no warning wasn’t good either. It would just lead to binging down the line. He took a step forward and gently touched his hand, giving Tony a little smile. 

“Alright. You feel like walking? ‘Cause I sure do.” 

**Oh Yeah, You Said**

Tony had felt like walking. Once they reached the store, he wandered the aisles with Bucky, occasionally picking up something that struck his fancy. There were so many things around to choose from, it was a little overwhelming at times. “What do you like eating?” He asked, as they walked down the frozen food aisle together. “I’m not a very good cook. The only thing I’m good at making is smoothies. I’m a boss at making smoothies.” He smiled. It was nice to just..be around someone. Made things a little easier. 

“But I know man can’t live on smoothies alone. I usually just make frozen meals, but we don’t have to do that. I can try to learn to cook better, if you’d like. I only lecture once to twice a week, depending on the class, so I have plenty of time.”  
Bucky froze, hand hovering over a bag of peas. For some reason, the offer left him stunned. He...he was offering to cook? Logically, Bucky knew that it was a reasonable and nowhere outrageous of a thing for Tony to say, but it just seemed so...foreign to him. Brock had never even thought about cooking for fun, let alone out of duty. That had fallen to him, ‘cause he was little and had pretty eyes and was Brock’s bitch whether he liked it or not. 

But...not, not anymore. He took a shaky breath and then tossed the peas into the cart. “That’d be nice. We could do it together, if you wanted. I’ve got experience.” Bucky smiled shakily and started to move down the aisle. 

“I work most of the day, so I don’t have time like you have, but I can still help.” 

Tony nodded and followed him. “Sounds good.” Bucky had seemed shocked by his suggestion. But they were roommates really and even if in another dimension they were dating, he’d try to share the load of household chores with Bucky. Not force him to do all that by himself. It wasn’t right. 

“Do you have the summers off? It’s kinda funny, but I don’t. At least not this summer. I’m taking the kids to Greece. They had planned this big educational trip to Greece, but it turns out that I’m the only professor who speaks Greek. So, I’m going.” He chuckled. “They’re going to help out, I think. My job is just to wrangle them and hopefully make sure they do a little work.” Maybe Bucky could come with him, if he was still there in summer. Tony would have to pay, but he didn’t mind. It would be fun. More fun than going by himself.

“Hopefully it’ll count towards my tenure and stuff. Being involved with the students, helping them plan for their future and shit. Our jobs aren’t that different, you just deal with smaller children.” He had a feeling Bucky knew what he meant. Some of the college students were roughly as mature as first graders. He was in an oddly good mood, despite feeling the effects of withdrawal. He felt like shit but emotionally..he felt connected. 

Bucky clutched the handlebar of the carriage and looked down at their food. So Tony was going away this summer? Would he want him out by then? He chewed on his lip and breathed through his nose slowly. He kinda wanted a smoke. Kinda. Taste the nicotine bite at his throat and clear his mind with fog. 

“Oh, so you’re gonna be gone in a couple months?” Bucky asked softly. “Do you want me out then?” 

Tony shook his head. “No, no. You can stay as long as you need. I trust you won’t tear up the house. Besides that, I’ll need someone to look after Dum-E so he doesn’t get lonely.” If Bucky wasn’t there, he was just planning to hire a pet sitter. He smiled a little. “Don’t worry about it.”


	9. You Don't Know Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more descriptive mentions of Tony's alcoholism in this chapter, just a warning.

**You Don’t Know Me**

Tony had tried to stay sober. He really had. Made it for a whole two days before he had to have another drink, and it was so strong that he just..couldn’t avoid it any longer. He admitted that it was a problem, but..it didn’t seem to make it any easier to deal with.

This was his third failed attempt in two weeks. He was buzzed again, on the edge of drunk- when Bucky came home. Tony didn’t know what to do. He was ashamed, which seemed stupid, but he was. He wanted to hide, but where could he hide? Finally, he settled on under his work desk. It was a terrible hiding spot, but he couldn’t see the door, so it worked. Right? 

Bucky pulled into the driveway. It had been a pretty good day at school, the kids were all working on their research projects, using library books and the computer (supervised of course) to learn things about animals and people and things, whatever they wanted to focus on. It had been fun, and Bucky had only gotten two paper cuts. Natasha had insisted on using Hello Kitty bandaids. Bucky unlocked the front door and stepped inside, dropping his bag on the sofa. The townhouse was quiet and….still. He frowned. 

“Tones?” Bucky called out, wandering into the kitchen. His therapist liked him to have an after work snack. To help him get used to eating out of routine. He took a granola bar and got a glass of water, pausing for a moment when he saw the bottle of booze on the counter. Oh. Bucky had the urge to take the whiskey and dump it down the drain, but he didn’t want to make Tony upset. He drank expensive stuff. Well, Bucky thought he did, Tony never had so much of as a beer around him. Bucky had tried to tell him that if he needed to as he recovered, it was okay, that it wouldn’t bother him. He let him smoke, chainsmoke (Bucky needed to quit, he knew he did, but...things were good now, he didn’t want to change anything yet, as lame as that sounded), so it was only fair if Bucky let him drink. 

“You okay Tony? Where are you?” Bucky put the cap on the bottle. There was no glass, so Bucky assumed Tony had it with him. 

“Dum-E? Are you with him?” Dum-E was easier to crack than Tony. Bucky wiped his hands on his jeans and walked back out to the living room. He was getting anxious, but it wasn’t so much because Tony was possibly drunk, but just that he couldn’t find him. Well, maybe a little bit of the former. At this point, he wasn’t scared, not like he was when Brock got drunk, just...cautious. 

After a moment, there was a short chorus of beeps and Dum-E rolled out of Tony’s workshop, pointing with his arm inside. Bucky jogged over and stuck his head inside. 

“Tony? You in here? It’s okay if you’re drunk.” He sighed a little. “You don’t have to hide from me. It’s alright.” 

Tony crawled out from under the desk slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, face red. He was ashamed. “I tried- and - and I’m trying.” He chewed on his lip, trying to stop the tears from falling. “Please don’t leave.” Not like Bruce. He didn’t want to be alone. Tony thought Bucky would be gone longer, that he’d be safe. He wasn’t, though. Now Bucky knew and- and had to see him like this.

“I’m sorry, Bucky..” He curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his body. Tony looked away, expecting the man to leave any time. He tried to be..be better than his father. But it didn’t seem possible. Every time he tried, he failed again. It seemed like things were never going to get better. “I just..fucked up.” 

Bucky stepped in and pulled Tony into his arms and shook his head. He was still so little. Tony was short too, slightly built, but...Bucky still looked like a kid beside even him. 

“No, I’m not gonna leave. Promise Tones.” He rubbed his back and pulled away for a moment before putting a hand to the small of his back and led him out to the couch. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you that you don’t have to hide this. You can’t get better if you hold off and then drink in secret.” 

Bucky sat Tony down and crawled on beside him. He thought for a moment before getting up and fetching the water he’d poured from the kitchen and a blanket.   
“Here.” He sat back down, cross legged, looking down at his hands, picking at his nails. “I won’t leave because of this, I swear to god.”   
Bucky had been through much worse. Still had the scars. He rested his head against Tony’s shoulder and let the quiet soothe them. For a minute, the only sounds were Dum-E’s beeps and their own breathing. 

“We can look into AA, if you want. Or therapy? If you want to.” 

Tony sipped at the water, thinking. “Th-therapy might be good.” He had looked at AA, but the idea of being in a group was..intimidating. He looked up at Bucky, feeling..safe. Secure in knowing that he wouldn’t just abandon him. “Thank you.” 

Tony added softly. Bucky wasn’t going to leave over this. 

He looked between Dum-E and Bucky. “I’ll get better.” He was going to stop hiding from Bucky. Bucky knew now. Tony was still ashamed, but..he’d get better. He would do what Bucky said and try to ease off slowly. That could work. “Promise. You won’t have to live with me like this..”


	10. I Think I'm Going to Boston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of part one! woo-hoo! we are already working on part two, which will be classified as its own fic. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the fic! we really appreciate it!

**And You Don’t Wear My Chains**

God dammit. God-fucking-dammit. Bucky stared down at his phone and got up and started walking out of the teacher’s lounge. 

“Gotta go Nat. Family emergency. I’ll text you, sorry.” Apparently his sister had gone and stole some money from the store she’d been working at. Had gotten some pills and now was in the hospital. And here Bucky was thinking that everything was evening out. Looking up for him. Bucky hopped in his car and pulled out of the school parking lot, heading in the direction of Mass General. The kids would need some support. And his ma. At the first red light, he lit up with shaky hands and held the cigarette between his teeth while he drove. 

He rolled down the window and stuck his hand out, struggling to stay on the road and in the moment. Bucky just...he couldn’t take it. Not right now. Did Becca give a shit about any of them at all? About her kids? Her parents? Him? Bucky tossed the burnt out cigarette out the window and grabbed another.   
When Bucky finally parked the car he wasn’t anywhere near the hospital. He was home. Wiping his eyes on the back of his hand, Bucky stumbled in and let out an anguished cry. 

“God damn it, Becca! Fuck you!” He sniffed loudly and leaned up against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. Good thing he’d been going light with the smokes lately, cause Bucky was ready to cash ‘em all in now. Waste away on smoke. 

Tony walked over to the entryway, hearing Bucky’s shouts. He was smoking, practically two at a time. “Bucky?” He asked softly, not quite understanding. “What happened? Are you okay?” He didn’t seem okay. Not at all. 

“You-” He paused, remembering what he had said before. “Is it about Becca? Is she okay?” He didn’t know what was happening but now all of a sudden, he had a guess. “What happened..” He repeated once more, touching Bucky’s hand. “Is there something I can do?” 

“She-she fuckin’ stole from her job ‘nd then ODed on some shit she bought.” Bucky leaned against Tony and put the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe. He let out a long sigh and tried to steady his breathing. The nicotine had helped a little but not enough and now he just wanted to fucking crawl into a hole where the sun don’t shine. 

“I can’t fucking believe her.” Bucky coughed a little and stood up, anxiously shaking the Marlboro carton and keeping his fingers wrapped around the lighter where he’d stuffed it back in his pocket. 

“I just-” He couldn’t help it and lit another cigarette, taking this one slow. Bucky inhaled on it for a moment, pacing back and forth. “Just when I think everything’s fucking gonna be okay,” He gestured a little with the cigarette. 

“It comes crashing back down, like it always fucking does.” 

**Oh Yeah**

Tony took his hand after that smoke, to give Bucky something better to do. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated.

“Do you know what’ll happen to her kids? What condition she’s in? Do they need to stay with us?” Tony was trying to plan ahead. He didn’t have a lot of extra space, but he could lay out some blankets, maybe pick up some air mattresses at the store. 

 

“I want to help if I can..I know it’s your family, but mine’s mostly gone and I- I guess I’ve heard enough about them that I want to help. They’re part of my life too.” Maybe that was dumb though. He just..he wanted to help. Anything for Bucky or his family.

Bucky wriggled his hand in Tony’s for a moment until the pressure made him still. His eyes were frantic still and his fingers were still twitchy reaching up to his lips. He didn’t want them here. That was selfish of him. He shouldn’t care about his privacy when his nieces and nephews’ wellbeing was at stake. 

“They already live with my mom n’ Becca’s stable now. They’re gonna be okay.” Bucky nodded a little to himself, licking his lips and still pacing, even with Tony in tow. His hand was about the only thing keeping him from grabbing another smoke and a pack of gum. Switching out flavors of nicotine and mint. Balanced meal, huh?

“N’ I dunno if I can take that right now-I dunno, dunno Tony.” Bucky’s mind was racing and so was his tongue and he just couldn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry, thatwasselfishofme,” He spat out. “Wasn’t it?.” 

Tony shrugged. “It’s okay. You can’t help feeling like that.” He moved a little closer. “Just breathe, please.” He said, softly. 

“Slow down. Think about what you want to do next. Not what your mom would want you to do, or what your sister wants.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Slow down. Please.”

He cracked a small smile. “Your legs are longer than mine, I can’t keep up with you.” Tony was worried about Bucky, didn’t want him to have to start over again. Bucky had looked out for Tony before, stopped him from going too far...Tony could at least do the same. Hopefully.

What he wanted to do next. Huh. In that moment all Bucky wanted to do was run away, hop on a Greyhound with Tony and end up somewhere far from here. Far from his old apartment and far from his druggie sister and to where it was bright and fresh and warm. 

But that wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t. And his next best option was do nothing but smoke and drink black coffee spiked with whatever Tony was drinking. Just fucking forget about everything and never clear the cloud and see the light again. 

“I-I dunno wha’ I want anymore, Tony.” He finally said softly, too ashamed to admit his cruel idea of self punished and preservation. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked blankly at the ground. 

“I just dunno.” 

**And She Said**

Tony thought for a moment, then hugged him. “Well.” He said, plainly. “I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.” Tony did have an idea, though he wasn’t sure whether Bucky would be interested.

“Come to Greece with me? It’ll be warm, sunny..I have discounted rates. You don’t even have to hang out with the snotty young adults. You can go sightseeing and sunbathe and..go to the ocean. I’d take care of everything. We both need a vacation from all the grey, and it isn’t for a few weeks so you can get this settled first.” Tony hoped he would come.

“Besides..I like spending time with you. I’ll miss you while I’m gone.” 

Bucky held onto Tony tightly and after mulling it over, he nodded. “O-okay.” His brain was too tired to mention how he wanted to pay. He could bring it up later. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe, but the closest I got was Epcot.” He chuckled a little and coughed. God. He-he needed to curb those. He could go chainsmoke every time he got upset. Bucky would get fucking black lung before he was thirty. 

“And there’s so much there I’d love to photograph.” He took a step back and smiled weakly at Tony, cheeks still wet and mouth still sour. Bucky had come home wanting nothing more than a hole to crawl into but then Tony came around and held him before he fell. It...it was something new for Bucky. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had just been there for him. 

He swallowed hard, probably should get some water, and wiped his eyes before looking back at Tony again.   
“You think you could come to the hospital with me?” 

**I Think I’m Going to Boston**


End file.
